Like an alcoholic confessing his sins to a toilet bowl I’m ready to let it all out And Run my mouth like Mohammed Ali would run commentary for the Super bowl And Be rest assured that Truth will be told Be it in the scorching afternoon on the streets of UTANGA Or on Obudu mountain’s […]
Category: Poetry
I could decide to pick a prostitute and “sex” it away I could decide to get a wrap of ganja and smoke it away… Or visit a “pharmacist” to sniff it away I could decide to spend all day and night in a bar drinking it away At least I know, like my friends say
I cry When the chips fall off my shoulders When I put up a cowardly bold face And there is no grave to bury the shame in it When I find myself doing things I preach against When I seem to fear myself more than death When I know I’m not truthful within And everyone
When I’m hurt. . . I’m..hot. . . I’m lost… In thoughts… Every hair strand on my body gets dreadlocked… My brain like two threads deadlocked… The realities leaves me shell-shocked. . . When I’m hurt, I dont cry. . . I wear a big smile with mediterranean water dripping from my eyes Thats how